


A glimpse into Dorian Pavus's psyche

by ScorpioAntares



Series: Metas using Strange Theories [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Character Study, Essay, Gen, Interpretation, Meta, Unconcluded, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, character profile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:59:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorpioAntares/pseuds/ScorpioAntares
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this essay, I focus on the psychological profile on Dorian Pavus from Dragon Age: Inquisition role-playing game. I wish to convey some peculiar traits of Dorian's personality which make him one of those fictional characters who evoke strong reactions because of their inner depth and credibility. This essay is based on an analysis of fictional material provided in Dragon Age: Inquisition and "The World of Thedas" compendium.</p><p>Whenever approaching fictonal characters, I follow a principle that they must have profound psychodynamic depth if we are supposed to sympathise or identify with them, broadly speaking: if they are supposed to move us at all. Moreover, if we treat them seriously, we may discover that their stories carry a soul. (see Notes for more)</p><p> </p><p>  <strike>UPDATE (11.02.): Aaaand I'm reviving it because I've got some ideas about the "dark future".</strike></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The story

**Author's Note:**

> Whenever approaching fictonal characters, I follow a principle that they must have profound psychodynamic depth if we are supposed to sympathise or identify with them, broadly speaking: if they are supposed to move us at all. Moreover, if we treat them seriously, we may discover that their stories carry a soul. It is an example of work balancing between fan activity and scientific research according to standards applied in the humanities. It approaches fictional characters with intellectual seriousness, with an attitude that respects the depth and complexity embedded into convincing, non-cliché characters. If you do not like digging deep into fictional characters' traits and motives, or you have aversion to psychoanalytic/ psychodynamic approach to human beings, this is probably not a reading for you.
> 
> The subject is so complex and broad that I am compelled to limit my theoretical excursions to selected approaches and theories which may help me shed some light on the peculiarity of Dorian's psychological position. First, I reconstruct and interpret Dorian's story as it is presented in The World of Thedas1 to provide material for further analysis. Then, I proceed to the crucial aspects of his developmental portrait: the oedipal configuration and the matrix of significant object relations (based on his relatives, significant friends, and potential love partners from Inquisition). Next, I will embed Dorian's psychological position into selected theories of narcissism, to pin down the role which narcissistic libido plays in his emotional and mental functioning. Finally, I would like to share some hypotheses on our perception of this character: why Dorian has received such a favourable reception, and why he grows dear to many of us.
> 
> * * *
> 
> EDIT: I've decided to keep it on permanent hiatus because **the more I think of Dorian reception phenomenon, the more complex intellectually and socially it gets, and the more feels I get, and it all gets really weird.** Besides, I flinch at the thought that any decent research on that topic would have to be enormous.  
>  ~~EDIT 2 (11.02.): Applying necromancy because some ideas about time travel came up.~~ If I ever finish that part, I think 'll publish it separately. Don't know why but my brain keeps convincing me that this meta isn't done.

**A sterile scion:** _**I'm never what you wanted**_

Dorian of House Pavus, the only child of Tevinter magister Halward and his wife Aquinea Thalrassian, was born in 9:11 Dragon Age, in what used to be the greatest human civilization of the Thedas continent. He was born to fulfill a plan, more precisely – brought to life to fulfill a plan, as he depicts his origins bitterly: "I am the scion of house Pavus, a product of generations of careful breeding, and the repository of its hopes and dreams. Naturally, I despised it all." Like Hanno Buddenbrook, he struck his name out of the family tree, putting the magnificent Pavus legacy to slow death. He grew up to turn against everything that has been imposed on him without his voluntary consent, perhaps the only exception being his homosexuality, embraced as one of the focal points of his conscious self-image. He is encountered as a flamboyant, defiant rebel whose personal anthem could be Foo Fighters' song _The_ _Pretender,_ ready to reform his country which welters in moral corruption and decadence _._

What draws attention in Dorian almost immediately is the extravagant fashion style, the loud demeanor (which leaves an impression that this man, reaching his thirties during the storyline of _Inquisition_ , has not completely abandoned a teenager's frame of mind), and a grandiose, egocentric, apparently shallow manner of self-appreciation which might remind us of Johnny Bravo:

> _[from conversations in Haven and Skyhold]_
> 
> **Inquisitor** : [Tell me about yourself.]  
>  (first time you speak)  
>  **Dorian** : [...] And beyond my being so charming and well-dressed? Which is obvious to anyone.  
>  (later on)  
>  **Dorian** : [...] I never tire of talking about myself.
> 
> **Dorian** : [...] Distracted? By my wit and charm? I have plenty of both.
> 
> (a dialogue option available in Skyhold if you have sided with the templars)  
>  **Dorian** : But I _am_ the ideal spy: charming, clever, perfect teeth and hair. It all fits.
> 
> _[from party banter]_
> 
> **Dorian** **:** You caught the eye of a young woman in that last village, Blackwall.  
>  **Blackwall** **:** I'm sure you're mistaken.  
>  **Dorian** **:** You're right. She was undoubtedly looking at me.
> 
> **Blackwall** **:** It's odd how you've won over so many at Skyhold, Dorian.  
>  **Dorian** **:** You're surprised they haven't all dismissed me as "the charming, but ultimately wicked magister"?
> 
> _(with Blackwall)_  
>  **Dorian** : I am very good at the whole magic thing.
> 
> _(with Cassandra)_  
>  **Dor** **ian** **:** I always smile. People like my smile, and they should! I have excellent teeth.
> 
> **Cassandra** **:** You're not as handsome as you think, Dorian.  
>  **Dorian** **:** I must be, or you wouldn't have been thinking about it all this time.  
>  **Cassandra** **:** Anyone who claims it as often as you must be dreadfully concerned they're not.  
>  **Dorian** **:** Look at this profile. Isn't it incredible? I picture it in marble.
> 
> _(Cole bantering with Dorian)_  
>  **Cole** **:** You say you're handsome all the time. Am I? I can't tell.

His family name is loaned from Latin, meaning 'a peacock', and he seems to fit in the allegoric meaning of this bird very well. Varric Tethras grants him the nickname Sparkler, intentionally emphasising Dorian's aura of lustre and superficiality. Throughout the gameplay of _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ , the player-created Inquisitor is involved in Dorian's personal issues, to discover his other side: a man who has learned to mistrust his closest friends and relatives, who is deeply hurt, hopelessly unsatiated in love (unless he finds a partner within the Inquisition, but it turns out that his happiness cannot outlive the Inquisition itself), and alarmingly attracted to stimulants such as alcohol and money gambling (the latter happens mostly through party banter with Varric).

According to the biography featured in _The World of Thedas_ , which encompasses events from Dorian's life prior to _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ , the mage has shown a peculiar talent in sabotaging his father's scheme even as a little boy. He developed a habit of perpetrating trouble wherever he was delegated, only to be dispelt in disgrace. According to _The World of Thedas_ , his childhood was a vicious circle of failed education attempts from 9:20 Dragon onwards. Dorian was first placed in a Circle in Carastes (a very prestigious one) when he was nine years old, already displaying magical abilities ahead of older boys, and quickly becoming a bully to his peers. A senior enchanter in Carastes Circle is rather shocked to see the youngest boy **actively** opress others and impute jealousy to them, rather than respond to bullying in self-defense:

> My initial suspicion was that Dorian was being bullied by the older boys, but it appears the reverse is true. Your son has become a terror in the halls, lording his superior magic over the other boys, who he believes are jealous of his prowess. (WoT II, p. 233)

This picture brings an early portrayal of Draco Malfoy to mind: a little brat with a sense of superiority, marking his territory across the halls, and bragging about his father's power and connections. It was only a matter of time when some impatient Harry Potter would try to cut Dorian down to size. His adventure in the circle ends with a brawl with another boy, leaving the victim injured, and Dorian closed in a solitary, stained with his first own scandal.

It is unfortunately unknown what happened with him in his teenage years. The next turning point in his biography is a spectacular run from the high-disciplined school led by the Order of Argent in Minrathous, an event which must have taken place in Dorian's puberty or early adolescence:

> That [period in the school – SA] lasted exactly three months before Dorian disappeared... only to turn up in a drunken stupor at a house of ill repute in the elven slums. (WoT II, p. 233)

The discreet intervention of Halward's friend, magister Gereon Alexius, helped avoid the rumours this time. In his letter to Pavus Senior, Alexius admitted that he had heard some disturbing confessions from Dorian, and pledged to take him in as his apprentice, in deep respect for boy's talent and fine blood. Alexius also has suspicions about the motives of boy's behaviour:

> [...] once Dorian sobered up in the carriage, we had an interesting chat. He's rather despondent over the life's path you've charted for him – if I may speak frankly – and thus, I think a part of him sabotages all efforts to keep him on the straight and narrow, either to spite you or to punish himself. I cannot say. (WoT II, p. 233)

I think this is an apt commentary on Dorian's condition at the time. Moreover, considering his complex psychological position (which I will explore later on), his defiant behaviour may be a combination of both motives brought out by Alexius: recurring assaults on his father (both the 'real' father and Dorian's inner father imago) which evoke massive guilt and push Dorian toward self-punishment.

Dorian spread his wings under Alexius's supervision. This period of his life must have been shaped be a completely different atmosphere than being a constant burden. The biography states that Alexius became his mentor, and Gereon's son Felix – a friend for life (who unfortunately passes away during _DA: Inquisition_ ). For a few years Dorian blossomed: he became an enchanter in the Circle of Minrathous, started gaining reputation of his own, and apparently was restored to father's favour. This idyllic period ended around 9:35 when Alexius lost his wife during a darkspawn attack and had Felix tainted with the Blight. Gereon became fixated on time magic in order to save Felix. Dorian, as it is reported, helped Alexius for the next two years, and practically sacrificed his riveting career in the Circle. In one of the letters to his father young Pavus wrote, not without frustration:

 

> Yes, I am still in the estate and, yes, we are still chasing after the same hopeless quest. I keep hoping that Alexius will snap out of it. Was it not enough that we found a way to prolong Felix's life long past someone with such an illness would normally hope to expect? (WoT II, p. 233)

According to _The_ _World of Thedas_ and Dorian's personal quest in _Inquisition_ , years 9:37-9:38 Dragon marked the deepest emotional crisis in Dorian's lifetime. He ultimately fell out with Gereon Alexius, left magister's estate where he had been protected from father's influence and apparently entered a downward spiral of debauchery and heavy drinking. _The World of Thedas_ reads as follows: Dorian spent next months "[...] drinking in the slums of Minrathous, evading anyone sent by his family to recover him"[ 7](https://archiveofourown.org/works/new#sdfootnote7sym). Then, he tried to reconcile with Alexius but found nobody in the family estate. The next fragment of the compentium is most disturbing:

> With no indication where Alexius had gone, Dorian fell back to his debauchery, engaging in such excess that the scandal forced his family's hand. He was abducted from the home of Lord Ulio Abrexis – absent at the time, though his son was present – and spirited back to Quarinus by ship. (WoT II, p. 233)

Here, _The World of Thedas_ cites a correspondence between two magisters pleased by Halward's misfortune. The author of a short letter is truly delighted with the scandal: the heir of House Pavus was found in bedsheets with Lord Ulio's son and publicly exposed as a homosexual. The incident ruined family reputation and Halward's dreams of promoting Dorian as the next Archon.

> In an effort to contain the scandal, Magister Halward evidently kept Dorian a veritable prisoner in their Quarinus estate for months. When Dorian finally escaped, he fled into the countryside with not a coin to his name, vowing never to return. Whether his rage was due to the kidnapping, the imprisonment, or something else is unknown, but the obvious row within the Pavus family fueled the public speculation for many months. (WoT II, p. 234)

What has been unknown according to the compendium on Thedas, is actually revealed to the Inquisitor when Halward Pavus makes an attempt to reconcile with his son in Redcliffe. These several months in 9:37-9:38 Dragon were most likely the time when Halward decided to resolve his family issues once and forever, and scheduled the infamous blood magic ritual to change his son's sexual preferences. Dorian's confessions made on that occasion reveal that he had felt betrayed threefold: **as a gay, as a father's son, and as a human being** – with his right to live on his own and be sincere with himself valued less than a scheme plotted for generations, power, reputation and honors:

> **Dorian** : I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves. [...]  
>  **Halward** : This display is uncalled for.  
>  **Dorian** : No, it _is_ called for. You called for it by luring me here.  
>  **Halward** : This is not what I wanted.  
>  **Dorian** : I'm never what you wanted, Father, or had you forgotten?  
>  [...] Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means every perceived flaw – every aberration – is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.  
>  [...] what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to _change_ me!  
>  **Halward** : I only wanted what was best for you!  
>  **Dorian** : You wanted the best for _you_! For your fucking legacy! Anything for that!

Halward's evident weariness when he is trying to respond to Dorian's accusations suggests that the same vicious circle had been going on and on for a long time. "This is how it has always been", he explains to Inquisitor with a heavy sigh when Dorian spits at him with sarcastic remarks. Let us speculate on how it began – how Dorian had become the man from _Dragon Age: Inquisition_.


	2. Pavor pavonis. The development

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, I investigate Dorian's early childhood development based on the psychoanalytic theories of Freud and Melanie Klein.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! From now on I am using theories which problematize sexuality, violence and primitive phantasies, and are therefore appropriate for MATURE READERS. I have warned.

The following part of my essay is almost pure speculation, based on biographical details given so far and the body of psychoanalytic knowledge. I shall try to reconstruct Dorian's oedipal configuration based on the material presented in the previous paragraphs. Before I proceed, a short excursion on the Oedipus conflict itself is welcome. It is described by Sigmund Freud as a critical point in child development (especially boy's development), occurring between the age of 3 and 5. It marks child's initiation into culture, as he is forced to compromise between his own gratification and demands made by the outer world, represented by the educating parents. In the course of the classical Oedipus complex, the boy is said to desire his mother as a gratifying love object. He identifies with his father as the one who can possess the mother, and becomes his father's jealous rival. One of the crucial factors in this process is the fear of castration, as a punishment from the father, for the forbidden incestuous desire. Eventually, the boy is supposed to forsake his desire for the mother in favour of other future women (See: S. Freud, "The Ego and the Id", _Beyond Pleasure Principle and Other Writings, Penguin 2003, pp. 119-122)._ Freud connects oedipal conflict with Darwin's hypothetical primal horde whose sons murdered the tyrannical father, claimed the women for themselves, and established a culture based on incest taboo and fear of the father _(See: S. Freud,_ _Totem and Taboo, Routlege 1950, pp. 146, 164-166)._

One thing must be made clear before I proceed: whenever we are dealing with oedipal and pre-oedipal symbolism, the ubiquitous phantasies of genitals, which might seem rather intrusive to a reader unfamiliar with the psychoanalytic discourse, actually mean much more than they seem to mean at face value. According to the classic Freudian-Kleinian approach, these things are the first symbols available for a child, wicked as they may seem. They stand for food, life force, gifts, weapons, love, hate, respect, rivalry and fear, eventually – the breast and the phallus represent the mother and the father as such. These early representations should not be trivialised if we wish to understand a child's inner world. Considering these points, it is not a misguided claim that the Tevinter Altus class appreciates its phallic and oedipal attributes: strict rivalry, legacies, power, authority, pleasing fathers and breeding perfect sons, and that Dorian was born into a _milieu_ which puts great pressure on young boys, pressure oedipal in its symbolism.

Freud's text _Analysis of a Phobia in a Five-Year-Old Boy_ remains a paradigmatic display of the male Oedipus complex mechanics. It can be pictured through a famous metaphor derived from a childhood phantasy of the boy under discussion, a phantasy deeply reflecting what was going on in his inner world: a big giraffe with a big widdler (which also happened to be a big white horse, among other things) and a crumpled giraffe (See: S. Freud, _Analysis of a Phobia in a Five-Year-Old-Boy_ , The Standard Edition vol. X, 1909, pp. 7-13, 36-40).

Little Hans was phobic of horses (later on: of big animals in the zoo generally) and very curious about reproductive organs. When he was playing with his father one day, they drew a giraffe, and Hans was very yeager to attach a long phallus to it. The imagery of a giraffe with a big widdler returned later in boy's night terror phantasy:

> He: “In the night there was a big giraffe in the room and a crumpled one; and the big one called out because I took the crumpled one away from it. Then it stopped calling out; and then I sat down on top of the crumpled one.”  
>  ‘I [Hans's father - SA] (puzzled): “What? A crumpled giraffe? How was that?”  
>  ‘He: “Yes.” (He quickly fetched a piece of paper, crumpled it up, and said:) “It was crumpled like that.”  
>  ‘I: “And you sat down on top of the crumpled giraffe? How?”  
>  ‘He again showed me, by sitting down on the ground. (S. Freud, _Analysis..._ , p. 37)

Hans's father who was his immediate substitute 'therapist' suggested that the dreaded big giraffe was the father himself, and the crumpled giraffe – the mother whose imago has been diminished after the boy discovered she had had no phallus after all. Freud interpreted the phantasy as a display of Hans's triumph over the father _via_ possessing the mother (See: S. Freud, _Analysis..._ , p. 37-40). However, the case material given in _Analysis..._ provides evidence that it could be quite the opposite. In _Analysis..._ , he appears to overlook how stubbornly Hans tries to attribute a phallus to his mother and little sister despite having noticed feminine biology (See: S. Freud, _Analysis..._ , pp. 7, 11, 14, 21, 31). The big animals from his phobic phantasies are also associated with cow's udders – a wicked object that seems to combine the characteristics of mother's breast and phallus, thus making Hans actually mistake udders for penis:

> At the same age he went into a cow-shed once and saw a cow being milked. ‘Oh, look!’ he said, ‘there's milk coming out of its widdler!’ (S. Freud, _Analysis..._ , p. 7)

Besides, being bitten by a large horse, the intermediate object of Hans's phobia, is an oral-sadistic anxiety content, not a phallic one. It brings out earlier stages of development and refers to the breast-object rather than the father and the phallus.

These reservations brought me to a conclusion that the big giraffe with a large phallus in fact represents a distorted imago of Hans's mother: his exaggerated object of oedipal fascination. The father, on the other hand, is the crumpled giraffe: belittled, irrelevant, not powerful enough to evoke respect and put demands like a stereotypical Oedipal father should. It appears that the boy dreaded his mother under oedipal pressure: he felt he had taken the crumpled giraffe away as he sensed father's absence. For a time period, Hans remained bound only to one object, as if the mother had absorbed his father's symbolism, and he tried to evade her. The boy seemed to have inclinations towards homosexualism, but at some point he managed to undertake the classical oedipal demand and develop interest in girls... at least according to Freud (See: S. Freud, _Analysis..._ , p. 17, 20). At this point, Freud would believe that a boy can become fixated on homosexualism as soon as he has discovered a lack of phallus in women. I intend to follow a line of interpretation which does not reduce disappointment in women to the phallic dimension but goes deeper, into the remnants of early experiences connected with breastfeeding.

 **The All-Encompassing Father:  
** **a bit more sophisticated Little Hans**

I suppose that Dorian Pavus was in fact quite similar with Little Hans, only the outcome of his Oedipus complex turned out reverse: with his mother imago cast aside not because he expected her to be a man and got bitterly disappointed, but because he had not desired her at all in the first place. This state of affairs can be, as I believe, a consequence of a psychological position rooted deep in teh first year of life – I shall return to this topic later on.

It appears that, in the wake of the Oedipus Complex, Dorian was already more certain about his homosexual object choice than Little Hans. His rejection of mother-object had already occurred before, and transformed the development of his classical Oedipus conflict. In consequence, Dorian's father-object was overestimated as the only reasonable option. Little Hans's father gives a general impression of withdrawing, hardly resolute, and he often disappears for fine time periods. Halward Pavus, on the other hand, is much likely a possessive, dominant, unbending despot with a tendency to constrict his son. Pavus must have been very strict and actually fearsome as a father, yet Dorian sincerely admired him and had a strong wish to _satisfy_ his father: 

 

> _(banter with Cole, Cole reads Dorian's mind out)_  
>  **Cole** : His face in the stands, so proud watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes.  
>  **Cole** : Anything to make him happy, anything.  
>  **Cole** : Why isn't that true anymore?
> 
> _(after the personal quest, if you concinced Dorian to reconcile with Halward)_  
>  **Dorian** : He says we're alike. Too much pride. Once I would've been overjoyed to hear him say that. Now I'm not certain. I don't know if I can forgive him.  
>  _(if you have convinced Dorian to leave and not reconcile with Halward)_  
>  **Dorian** : He's a good man, my father, deep down. He taught me principle is important. He cares for me, in his way, but he will never change. I can't forgive him for what he did. I won't.

I suppose that Dorian had a genuine wish to please his father, but he could not _identify_ with him to the point of undertaking the oedipal rivalry – these are two quite different things working under different psychological mechanisms. Identification means that the child wants to _be like somebody_. On the other hand, libidinal investment during the oedipal breakthrough means that the child desires to _be in a relationship_ with one of his parents. According to Freud, male oedipal identification occurs through the awakening of phallic self-awareness, working through the rivalry with the father and castration complex, finally: through social taboos and demands which the boy must accept if he is to become a man and a father someday. The ultimate outcome of this process is the installment of superego or, as Freud puts it, ego ideal – a demanding inner imago, an inner parental figure containing all the phantasies of whom one wants to be. Its function, among some others, is the ordinary conscience (See: S. Freud, "The Ego and the Id", pp. 119-122, 126-129).

Little Hans evidently undertakes oedipal demands and eventually works the conflict through with a heterosexual object choice preferred. Dorian's post-oedipal experience indicates that the demand to become like his father turned out overwhelming. In my opinion, Dorian tried _both_ to become Halward's partner and to identify with him, and this wish was doomed to failure due to the anatomy of male Oedipal conflict. During the early attempt to resolve this paradox, Halward became an object of total fixation, one that encompassed all the room for Dorian's feelings and hopes. Later on, Dorian had to give up either the identification or the object choice, and he did the former.

Freud distinguished a special kind of father-imago which became a 'god surrogate': the father exaggerated so much that he would become something like _an absolute being, and his position – unattainable. It is an embodiment of the father of a primal horde – instilled in his divine position, untouchable, demanding reverence and obedience (See: S. Freud,_ _Totem and Taboo_ , p. 164-166). According to Freud, such an object was created due to the patricide in the primal horde. In due time, I would like to add the dimension of Dorian's mother-object relations to prove that she could be in fact the one who had been erased, and the unconscious memory of it – blended with Dorian's father-imago. Anyway, I believe that Dorian's Halward is a 'Maker surrogate' of this kind, evoking a mixture of _tremor et fascinatio, and, ultimately, overwhelming. If we pay attention to what Nightmare Demon says to Dorian in the Fade:_

 

> **Nightmare** : Greetings, Dorian... it is Dorian, isn't it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father.  
>  **Dorian** : Rather uncalled for.

Contrarily to the headstone inscription on the little Fade cemetery, attributing "temptation" to Dorian as the greatest fear, young Pavus's greatest anxiety content may in fact be the oedipal demand: becoming, after all, like Halward, or even becoming identical with Halward. Freud differentiated fears which are sufficiently explained through external events and circumstances from anxieties, or neurotic fears, which are only _triggered_ or _amplified_ by external events, but _justified_ within person's unconscious imagery. (See: S. Freud, _A General Introduction to to Psychoanalysis_ (excerpt), [available here](http://www.bartleby.com/283/25.html)). Temptation, whatever it stands for, could be Dorian's greatest fear held consciously, based on his self-awareness and past mistakes. What I am concerned with is Dorian's greatest **anxiety** , one that isconstitutional for his personality.

Dorian's oedipal Halward, virtually a deity, was not an example that could be followed. If we recall the moment when Alexius tried to comprehend the motives of Dorian's defiance, I suggested a mixture of aggression and guilt towards the father. Now I would like to clarify it a bit: I would perceive Dorian's inobedience as a desperate defense from the god-like father putting the cruel, practically impossible demand of Dorian taking the god's throne. For now, I will not consider to what extent little Dorian could sense the 'real' aims and attitudes of his parents, and to what extent his inner situation depended merely on phantasies. The important thing is that Halward, as the symbolic fatherly figure, could create a dangerous kind of superego which is never satiated, demanding to the point of becoming persecutive, and can produce amounts of guilt close to self-loathing. Hence, Alexius might also have noticed in Dorian a need to punish himself, to turn out a disappointment according to his own inner moral standards.

That kind of superego could actually explain Dorian's behaviour in Carastes. The other boys posed no threat for him; his inner situation did, and he could not be aware of the real source of this threat. It must be noted that Dorian's stay in the Circle of Carastes was probably the first time when he detached from his parents for a longer period of time. The tension connected with this isolation must have reinforced his anxieties and provoked reaction which wasn't consciously intended: aggressive acting out on the nearest male objects. Briefly speaking, his defiance was possibly a violent response to an unconscious neurotic fear. It appears that he dealt with this situation using manic defenses: assuming the position of control and triumph over the threat.

According to Melanie Klein, the cruel superego I have mentioned is the initial stage of superego development even in normal children, and should be gradually softened. (See: M. Klein, "Criminal Tendencies in Normal Children", _Love, Guilt and Reparation and Other Works 1921-1945,_ Hogarth Press 1975, pp. 179, 182-183). This early superego can only be counterattacked, as the young ego is not yet strong enough to take the blows without disintegration. The attempts to control one's parental figures are peculiar to the early phase of what Klein called depressive position – the most significant transition in child development, equal with Freudian Oedipus complex. The centre of gravity of the infantile depressive position is the experience of detachment from the loved object. It is accompanied by guilt arising from the conviction that it was child's own aggression that destroyed the loved one. Depressive position is actually the infantile equivalent of mourning a loved person, forcing the child to take control over his aggression and find a more creative way to deal with his anxieties.

Relatively healthy people resolve their depressive position by gradual reparation of their good object, based on their nourishing memories and experiences. Depressive position should slowly evolve from a psychotic-manic attitude (which relies on omnipotent substitution of the object with narcissistic contents and assuming control over objects) into an obsessive-neurotic attitude (which relies on strict limitations in one's behaviour lest the object be lost again). The happy ending occurs if a person can retrieve its loved object _as harmed but restored and still standing_ , without having to deny the destruction, and without losing hope that the object can be retrieved with one's own _limited_ strength (See: M. Klein, "A Contribution to the Psychogenesis of Manic-Depressive States", _Love, Guilt..._ pp. 262-290).

It seems that Dorian's stay in Carastes forced him to act his infantile depressive position out, and revealed a serious underdevelopment in that matter. The boy overcompensated his own strength, projected envy into his peers, and launched an assault on his cruel superego to silence anxieties awoken by detachment from the object. It was most likely the moment when his guilt was yet mixed with persecutory fear: he had failed the father, and the father put frightening threats which most likely reflected Dorian's own aggression (according to Kleinian principle of symmetry between anxiety experienced and aggression acted out in reality or phantasy; see: M. Klein, "Criminal Tendencies in Normal Children", p. 179). What was the exact imaginary content of these anxieties – we do not know, unfortunately, but I can take lucky guess based on Freudian-Kleinian theory.

Dorian genuinely wanted his father to remain his personal god forever, because he desired him both as the oedipal love object and a role model. Hence the peculiar ambiguity of aims that lead Dorian to vicious circles of misbehaviour: deep inside he wanted to please his father by all means, but the very same father threatened his integrity and triggered aggressive reaction. The fear of taking father's place may have in fact combined with a more primal fear of ego disintegration – of losing one's integrity and identity, of being absorbed by an overwhelming object. " _One can not live if the other survives_ ", one would like to say; **yet when either dies, neither can survive** because it is the love-giving object that keeps the ego integrated. The situation must be worked through in a different manner than mutual murderous attempts between the ego and superego.

Moreover, the phantasy of being absorbed also carries oral-sadistic contents; the matrix for such phantasies is an early image of the evil devouring breast. Another great discovery by Klein is that the parental imagoes present in the classical period of the oedipal conflict are, in fact, modifications of an earlier situation, and that their symbolism usually carries remnants of this early situation. (See: M. Klein, "Symposium on Child-Analysis", _Love, Guilt..._ pp. 151, 154-155).

As I have already mentioned, something strange seems to have happened with Dorian's mother-imago; the oral-sadistic components presupposed in Dorian's oedipal imagoes indicate that she had been, to an extent, transferred into Dorian's father-imago. She remainded there, probably perceived as the cruel, devouring part of his father. These oral-sadistic contents may also help us answer why Dorian would turn away from love for his mother, but I shall suspend this reflection once again.

To please his father, Dorian would eventually have to wipe him out, to commit the forbidden primal horde murder and lose his precious object. In this setting, Dorian's withdrawal from exaggerated oedipal demands signalised, in fact, that he had successfully internalised a crucial moral principle: one mustn't murder his objects, even if they withdraw the greatest source of satisfaction or strike fear. For now, we can assume that Dorian developed an inverted Oedipus complex which solidified his homosexual orientation, if only his pre-oedipal relation with the mother-object had yet allowed another outcome.

Halward's love actually remained greedy and possessive to the core, while Dorian was trying to release himself from the grip. Halward is a narcissistic parent _par excellence_ who put his own ideal self into Dorian, and is most damaged by his son's independence. As Cole comments on Halward's attitude:

 

> _(one of the prompt 'cryptic comments' Cole makes in Skyhold)_  
>  **Cole** : He tried to melt a snowflake because he liked waterfalls. Swallowing bile and pride as he sees his son defend himself.

Hence, Dorian's commentary on his position in the family is deadly accurate: "I am the scion of house Pavus, a _product of_ generations of _careful breeding_ , and the repository of its hopes and dreams." A repository, a container, not exactly a human being. Halward's own personality never allowed him to see that Dorian needed trust and reassurance instead of control. Young Dorian was in fact a typical Kleinian neurotic child with criminal tendencies, struggling not to be crushed by his cruel superego's demands and guilt for the loved object. After all, he holds a deep grudge against his father but there is no raging hatred between them; ultimately, the forgiveness is possible even if it comes too late.

All things considered, it appears that not until Halward had betrayed Dorian's trust (and discredited himself as a deity, as he did not live up to Dorian's ego ideal anymore) could the young man act his defiance out without feeling damaging guilt on the way. Yet Halward's success at 'rectifying' blood magic would actually make Dorian's greatest anxiety situation come true: alter his mind so he would not be himself anymore, and violently insert Halward's demand as the ultimate source of his son's identity; an analogy to rape may come to mind. The perspective of Dorian becoming a drooling vegetable could be not so far from the truth. All the peculiarities of blood magic cast aside, I believe that the psychological intrusion itself, that was imprinted in such an attempt, could push Dorian's mind beyond the thin line where psychosis sets in; it would have been an attempt to take the foundations of his psyche away – a business just as nasty as the blood magic part. Fortunately, Dorian's narcissistic traits seem to have worked in favour of his well-being:

> ( _after the personal quest_ )  
>  **Dorian** : Selfish, I suppose, not to want to spend my entire life screaming on the inside.

After all, the same overgrown ego ideal that had cursed Dorian for life could have saved him from the madness of his real father. Yet, sincerity for oneself is one of the things young Pavus could only learn from experience.

After the incident Dorian started wearing his rebellion like an armour, obviously having transformed it into a meaningful source of self-confidence. It is a completely different matter how much this self-confidence was based on narcissistic compensation. Nonetheless, Dorian is able to mock Nightmare's attempt to intimidate him if they meet in the Raw Fade in _DA: Inquisition_. His greatest fear had almost come true yet Dorian was still standing, untangled from the mysterious fearsome influence of his oedipal imago. Eventually, it also enabled him to take on his father's place in the Magisterium and enter Tevinter political games on his own terms, without the terrorizing vision of being deprived of identity in the process.

**Why Aquinea's silence is screaming:  
more dragging Dorian through Kleinian delicacies**

Now it is time to take a look at Dorian's relationship with the mother. Throughout _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ she appears almost absent. There are some brief remarks, as well as discreet suggestions that Aquinea has been an alcoholic:

> ( _in Haven/ Skyhold_ )  
>  **Dorian** : My mother was chosen for my father because magic runs strongly in her blood. Never mind that hey loathed each other.
> 
> ( _location comment in the Exalted Plains_ )  
>  **Dorian** : Reminds me of when mother would take me boating, in the summer. Well, she had the servants take me on the boat while she sat inside with a cool drink.
> 
> ( _in Halamshiral_ )  
>  **Dorian** : This is all so familiar. I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners.  
>  **Inquisitor** : [Your mother could be here?] What if your mother were actually here? Where would we be then?  
>  **Dorian** : Short one mage, after he's dragged out by his earlobe.  
>  **Inquisitor** : I'm having difficulty picturing that.  
>  **Dorian** : Picture me a young boy of five years, then. She certainly always has.
> 
> (from _Trespasser_ DLC)  
>  **Dorian** : I went home... twice. Father was only there once. Mother was drunk _both_ times.

I wish to put a hypothesis which is yet very feeble forward, and see if it helps me hold my interpretation fairly coherent: that this absence of Aquinea Thalrassian in Dorian's conscious autobiography, contrasting with the overwhelming presence of Halward and reflected in Dorian's oedipal configuration, is a sign that her imago was subjected to a powerful defense mechanism that reaches far beyond Freudian Oedipus conflict. What I have in mind, precisely, is the combined maneuver of object splitting, omnipotent denial and projection, investigated by Melanie Klein in her late works. I believe that such an operation would be able to wipe the influence of Aquinea Thalrassian away from Dorian's self-image and twist her imago into something wicked.

According to Melanie Klein, the first breast-object _is always loved_ and is always supposed to _give love_ to the child. Klein seems to cherish the idea of love as _storge_ , family bond based on care and nourishing – unlike Freud who put emphasis on _eros_ , partnership filled with sexual desire. If the child is not able to love his mother object in any way (which usually means that the object has not provided enough good experiences to be loved), a psychological catastrophe occurs. The paradigmatic example of such a catastrophe was a boy named Dick, treated by Klein in late 1920's – already displaying _dementia praecox_ and several somatic diseases at the age of four. "Possibly his development was affected by the fact that, though he had every care, no real love was lavished on him", Klein pities the boy (See: M. Klein, "The Role of Symbol Formation in the Development of the Ego", _Love, Guilt..._ , pp. 222-223).

If Dorian had ever identified with his mother, it was certainly not an 'ordinary' identification where the child would take his parent's traits into himself in order to be like her or him. It is a special kind of identification which only allows contents that have already been filtered through the ego ideal. It was a projective identification, as Klein and her followers would put it, because in this process the aspect of projecting one's own expectations into the object seemed primary to taking in object's own original contents. Hence, Dorian's early mother imago was phantastic and distorted more than it should have been. There might have been many reasons for this, and regardless of what Aquinea 'really' had done or neglected, Dorian's inner situation at this point suggests that his mother object lacked something fundamental to be remembered as _invariably_ 'more good than bad'.

Melanie Klein holds that the earliest inner objects are always distorted but gradually become more and more realistic, in as much as they keep reassuring the child of their love. In the earliest period of life (the first 3-6 months) the object is normally split in two: an ideal part and a completely evil part. Each of them, so to speak, creates its own flow of experience; the ideal object serves as "a focal point in the ego" and it is absolutely necessary that it remains free from bad experiences at this point. In the later phase, as the ego gets stronger, the object consolidates becoming one good-and-bad object, close to a real human being. (See: M. Klein, "Notes on Some Schizoid Mechanisms", _Envy and Gratitude and Other Works 1946-1963_ , Hogarth Press 1975, p. 6). It follows that, at some point, Dorian might have stopped taking the real mother into his psyche and integrating her picture into one person. And because such a young soul could not do with a tainted love object, he saved the remaining good part of Aquinea by placing her imago within the idealised father-object. Instead of fixing the object within his inner world, he _evacuated_ it into a more welcoming environment. The external mother-object could have emptied out, making Dorian indifferent.

Melanie Klein points at one reason why the good maternal object can be diminished, split or pushed away: the interference of primal envy, an obscure evil drive which launches infant's aggressive phantasies on the good object, in order to deprive it of its good and replace it with spoiled waste. It appears that primal envy can both utilize unfavourable external circumstances and occur phantastically, with no fault on mother's side. Klein developed the concept of primal envy in her late work, as an extension of the notion of early infantile aggression. Envy is much more radical, and it has an obscure aura of moral and metaphysical evil interfering emotional development – something absolutely unique even in the field of psychoanalysis. It is often accompanied by excessive greed in taking the food in. (See: M. Klein, "Envy and Gratitute", _therein_ pp. 176-182, 184-186). The awakening of excessive greed and envy in an infant may have several reasons: actual malnourishment, mother's overly anxious attitude, or a powerful primal fear independent of external circumstances. Nonetheless, the same object that provides food and sustains life appears hostile and persecutory at once. Excessive envy causes terrible confusion in the infant and, if the defenses fail, may result in fixation on severe paranoia and intellectual inhibition. At some point, Klein admits that it can as well contribute to male homosexuality, as the infant appears to be bound to idealise his father-object (See: _therein_ , p. 201). Like in the Little Hans, the breast and the phallus become one, and the latter is idealised as the representative of the life drive.

The hypothesis that envy and greed are triggered by a primal fear of the death drive seems most interesting but it stretches speculation to the point where Klein's own theory slowly loses credibility. She believes that the conflict between the universal life and death drives is present within the infant nearly from birth, and that even little infants feel an overwhelming primal fear of annihilation, resulting from the death drive operating within their bodies and rudimentary ego. This fear overlaps the fear of child's superego as soon as the latter is settled. The death instinct is deflected outwards, creating the image of evil devouring breast (See: M. Klein, "On the Theory of Anxiety and Guilt", _Envy..._ , pp. 28-31). This kind of primal fear might have been present in Dorian, first aimed at the breast-object perceived as withdrawing food, and later transferred onto his possessive father in the classical oedipal situation. It is also possible, on the basis of Kleinian discourse, that this deeply imprinted fear of the primitive mother-object forced Dorian to split away a part of his ego which had felt dependence on his mother, hence locking him out of heterosexual libido investment. A loss of interest in the object is a typical signal that schizoid mechanisms have been used in order to thwart individual's aggressive attacks on the object.

Possibly, Aquinea was not loving enough 'in reality'. Yet, Dorian's general functioning on a neurotic level rather than paranoid or schizophrenic proves that he managed to develop a good breast-object at the very beginning of his life; otherwise, he'd most likely be a miserable psychotic child like Little Dick. It appears that his infantile depressive position set on too early or was worked through with an excessive use of destructive impulses, making him lose hope in his mother, and generally in women's ability to sustain life and bring gratification. This hypothesis sends us away to the phenomenon of emotional greed, as the infantile depressive position is supposed to be started by a greedy (and destructive, in the end) act of devouring the mother-object for love, or to keep her safe inside forever (See: M. Klein, "A Contribution to Psychogenesis...", p. 264). If so, then little Dorian could genuinely love his mother and unintentionally betray her, because his infantile love was yet strongly influenced by aggression. Hence, though he seems deprived of _paranoid_ fear of women, he may fear _for_ them in the _depressive_ mode, unconsciously remembering the damage he'd done.

It might be followed by an unconscious feeling that Dorian would in fact destroy women unintentionally if he attempted to have a serious relationship with them, and that he may only love these objects who, like his father, are over-idealised men: virtually indestructible, greater than him, stronger, more aggressive, and able to constrain him effortlessly. (And we may already suspect where this phantasy is going...) I wonder to what extent his careless flirting with female Inquisitor, which is bound to lead to his coming out and her disappointment, might be considered an attempt to humiliate the woman in a manic defense from depressive anxiety. But this is so far a pure guess.

From what I have conveyed so far, it appears that Dorian Pavus is aggressive to the core, and it seems that he will always need some kind of destructive or self-destructive outlet in his dealing with the reality. How he may have learned to modify and mitigate his pathological responses – I shall discuss in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the nature of Dorian's narcissism and how it could be mitigated thanks to a new meaningful object relation


	3. Growing a virgin mustache. The breakthrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short introduction on narcissism; Dorian's narcissism in the light of his relationship with Inquisitor; how Dorian might have changed thanks to Alexius. The feels intensify.

Narcissism is one of the cornerstones in psychoanalysis, being just as complex as this discipline can be. Freud considered narcissism one of two main modes of libido investment, along with object-oriented desire. While the latter draws libido towards real people who live in the external world, narcissistic investment occurs with one's phantastic ego ideal and its derivatives. There is a special indirect mode of narcissistic investment, known as narcissistic _object choice_ , which makes the individual project themselves, their ego ideal, or their idealised expectations onto real people and love them only for the traits which reflect one's self-ideal. According to Freud, some women love men only in as much as they can be adored by them, and hence fall into a specific kind of self-admiration. This seems to be an accurate description for the narcissistic object choice. This mechanism seems to be a normal trigger for infatuation, but it becomes pathological if the feedback from the real external objects cannot modify the idealised lover imago (See: S. Freud, "On the Introduction of Narcissism", _op. cit_., pp. 359, 373-374).

As Klein noted, an object constantly idealised is much weaker than a good object established during successful depressive position. It emerges through a greedy introjection of food, accompanied by omnipotent hallucinations. Every disappointment and every amount of aggression can crush the ideal object and turn it into a persecutor. (See: M. Klein, "Some Theoretical Conclusions Regarding the Emotional Life of the Infant", _Envy_..., _op. cit_., p. 64-65; "Envy and Gratitude", _therein_ , p. 193). In the later life, the inability to be disappointed with a love object without turning one's love into raging hatred marks a severe pathology.

A contemporary psychoanalyst Otto Kernberg developed a sophisticated distinction within the category of narcissism which also includes newer theoretical developments. According to Kernberg, narcissism is the main personal mode of developing self-esteem, and has several grades of severity: some of them being healthy and necessary, some of them – pathological (See: O. F. Kernberg, _Aggressivity, Narcissism and Self-Destructiveness in the Psychoterapeutic Relation_ , Yale University Press 2004, pp. 50-51). I shall describe the grades of narcissism briefly.

  1. Normal adult narcissism: a 'healthy' amount of self-assurance, specific to a person with stable object relations and value systems;

  2. Normal infantile narcissism: self-esteem regulation appropriate for each age prior to maturation;

  3. Regression into infantile narcissism or fixation on infantile narcissism: when mechanisms considered normal in a child are still used by an adult under pressure of his inner conflicts;

  4. Pathological narcissistic object choice, as described by Freud: individual's love objects being in fact projections of their ego ideal;

  5. Narcissistic personality disorder proper: a pathologically organised personality which is virtually shut away from any emotional, and often also intellectual, influence from external objects; according to Kernberg, this pathology creates an almost untreatable kind of patient and often combines with antisocial traits.




Throughout Kernberg's writings we can find characteristics of the most severe pathological narcissism which can be summed up as follows (See: O. F. Kernberg, _Aggressivity_..., pp. 50-51; _idem_ , "The Almost Untreatable Narcissistic Patient", _The Inseparable Nature of Love and Aggression_ , American Psychiatric Publishing 2012, pp.105-107):

  * excessive self-absorption and grandiose self-image, often expressed through a rather shallow set of values, reduced to appearance, wealth, clothing;

  * excessive life ambition and expectations often exceeding one's capabilities; oscillating between megalomania and great lacks in self-confidence, a notable fear of mediocracy;

  * relationships filled with greed and primitive envy (in Kleinian sense) towards the partners, accompanied by defenses from awareness of these two: contempt, depreciation of others, restitutionary attitude, tendency to exploit or instrumentalize others, emotional shallowness or lack of social interest;

  * emotional dependence on gratification, approval and appraisal – which are not treated with gratitude but taken for granted, and forgotten as soon as they are surpassed by an unpleasant experience;

  * the inability to rely on others, conformism, elasticity in pleasing people and adjusting to their expectations, supposedly resulting from the fear from emotional attacks;

  * the lack of empathy or concern for others, the inability to learn from others and one's own experience, the lack of "meaningful insight" into one's feelings and experiences, no capability for constructive criticism which would lead to inner changes, no persisting interest in common purposes, high values, communities;

  * the inability to experience mild guilt, sadness, or mourning, in contrast with with sharp depressive states caused by shame or feeling abandoned;

  * chronic feelings of loneliness, emptiness, lack of purpose, exhaustion;

  * patients with symptoms of deeper pathologies (like psychotic or dissociative traits) can also display antisocial behaviour and strong self-destructive drive.




Now let us compare these with the portrait of Dorian Pavus.

**_Per aspera ad ignem_ : wounds tangled with love**

Dorian as the person from the timeline of  _Inquisition_  seems quite contrary to a proper pathological narcissist. He is very firm in his opinions and life attitude, even defiant if you dare to disagree with him. Narcissistic flexibility only seems to be relevant for Dorian's infantile relationship with the father. If Inquisitor manages to befriend Dorian, he expresses deep gratitude and appreciation, calling them his dearest, and perhaps the only, friend. He eventually decides to stay in touch through a communication crystal after he leaves to Tevinter. Needless to say, it is even deeper in romance. In party banter with other companions he turns out very curious, suave, reaching out to nearly everybody, even if it leaves him exposed to attacks because of his Tevinter origin (except for Blackwall who evidently triggers rivalry). He cares about the future of his nation as a whole, and the Inquisition eventually inspires him to return to Tevinter as a reformer. His aims and values appear entirely mature, even praiseworthy, granting him the label of 'the good Tevinter'.

On the other hand, he does actually evade the pain caused by emotional injuries, and this happens mostly by drinking ([This essay ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087971)comprehensively describes Dorian as a high functioning alcoholic, I do not have knowledge to delve into this matter). His tokens of self-appreciation, mostly based on physical appearance or magical skills, indicate some extent of regression into infantile behaviour. Dorian seems to have the greatest need to boost his confidence when facing Blackwall. Somehow, Blackwall needs to assure everybody of his manliness when Dorian is around, and Dorian responds with contemptuous remarks about Blackwall's cleanliness – a conversation with a truly delicious innuendo. (Blackwall afraid to _pick up the soap_? Well played, Pavus. Well played.) Technical disputes with Solas seem to have the same compensating function, as the elven apostate know-it-all has a rather cruel manner of humiliating Dorian's kindness and idealistic aims.

According to B. Shaffer's interpretation of a slightly different (H. Kohut's) take on narcissism, "[...] the narcissistically vulnerable individual responds to actual (or anticipated) narcissistic injury either with shamefaced withdrawal or with narcissistic rage" (See: Brian W. Shaffer,  _The Blinding Torch_ , University of Massachusetts Press 1993, p. 151). Briefly speaking, a pathological narcissist from Kernberg's view is completely intolerant of _narcissistic injury_ – withdrawal into one's egocentrism caused by emotional pain. Even a small allusion which would diminish his self-assurance can trigger an automatic virulent response, filled with envious attacks supposed to drain the opponent out. A healthier neurotic narcissist, on the other hand, is more likely to respond with a sense of inferiority or despondency, and experience fits of depression.

Dorian Pavus seems to walk the middle path: the thin line of withdrawn, contained anger. His reaction to injuries is based on verbal aggression – biting sarcasm and passive aggressive comebacks, as it can be seen in party banter with companions who simply don't like him or obviously trigger his defensive mechanisms in a different way: Blackwall, Vivienne, Solas, and to some extent Iron Bull.

Dorian's narcissistic vulnerability is clearly exposed twice: first, in a process which triggers during his showdown with Halward in Redcliffe and carries through Dorian's banter with Cole. It is obvious that Cole's remarks only reignite Dorian's old emotional pain. Yet, in my opinion, this sequence of party banter is basically an improvised therapeutic session performed in a peripatetic mode. Cole tries to separate the cause of Dorian's pain and force his patient to make a meaningful interpretation. And Dorian's first reaction is helpless withdrawal, nothing more and nothing less

> _(even before Dorian agrees to answer Cole's questions)_  
>  **Cole** : Rilienus, skin tan like fine whiskey, cheekbones shaded, lips curl when he smiles.  
>  **Cole** : He would have said yes.  
>  **Dorian** : I'll... thank you not to do that again, please.
> 
> _(the main 'therapeutic dialogue')_  
>  **Cole** : Dorian, you said I could ask you questions.  
>  **Dorian** : It's true. I did say that.  
>  **Cole** : Why are you so angry at your father? He wants to help and you know he does, but...  
>  **Dorian** : I'm not certain I can explain it to you.  
>  **Cole** : You love him, but you're angry. They mix together, boiling in the belly until it kneads into a knot.  
>  **Dorian** : Sometimes... sometimes love isn't enough, Cole.
> 
> **Cole** : 'Love isn't enough.' Enough what? You didn't explain, Dorian.  
>  **Dorian** : [sighs] I was rather hoping I had.  
>  **Cole** : His face in the stands, watching as I pass the test. So proud there's tears in his eyes.  
>  **Cole** : Anything to make him happy, anything.  
>  **Cole** : Why isn't that true anymore?  
>  **Dorian** : Cole, this... this is not the sort of discussion for walking around. Please drop it.
> 
> **Cole** : I'm hurting you, Dorian. Words winding, wanting, wounding. You said I could ask.  
>  **Dorian** : I know I did. The things you ask are just... very personal.  
>  **Cole** : But it hurts. I want to help, but it's all tangled with love, I can't tug it loose without tearing it.  
>  **Cole** : You hold him so tightly. You let it keep hurting, because you think hurting is what you are. Why would you do that?  
>  **Dorian** : Can someone tell him to stop? Banish him back to the Fade or _something_?

Cole's persistence, and possibly also Inquisitor's slightly coercive reaction ("You an adult, Dorian. You want him to stop, tell him.") make Dorian abandon the strategy of withdrawal. Alcohol, his second mean to evade emotional pain, is not accessible. He's now almost naked, and only in this state can he enter the therapeutic situation. This is where a little miracle happens – a miracle of insight and self-understanding where Cole seems merely a triggering agent. Now the roles have reversed. Cole has put the material forward, and Dorian undertakes self-interpretation:

> **Dorian** : I've been trying to imagine how to explain it to you, Cole.  
>  **Dorian** : The thing is, sometimes the ones you love also are the ones who disappoint you the most.  
>  **Dorian** : You think that if they love you, they should understand. They shouldn't want to hurt you.  
>  **Dorian** : So you feel betrayed. You say things you can't even take back.  
>  **Cole** : Get out. You are no son of mine.  
>  **Dorian** : Yes, like that.  
>  **Cole** : He wishes he hadn't meant it.

The dialogue ends when Cole adds something Dorian could not be entirely sure of: whether Halward was capable of remorse. This confirmation opens up a possibility of forgiveness – and, at this point, Dorian's effort to retrieve his birthright amulet might be considered an attempt at father-object reparation.

**_And in his heart shall burn_ : fire meeting gasoline**

The second exposure of Dorian's vulnerability occurs when he comes to offer a sexual intercourse to the Inquisitor. In fact, it is an indirect attempt to establish a relationship. The scene takes place in main character's bedchambers, a most intimate environment. And this choice is not coincidental, as Dorian willingly takes the risk to reveal his Achilles heel – his undying desire for a long-lasting partnership. The dialogue options where Inquisitor rejects Dorian's proposal are most painful to look at but they reveal how Dorian copes with rejection. He shoots passive-aggressive messages to diminish his disappointment, and to make the Inquisitor pay for it:

> **Dorian** : I don't enjoy being toyed with. First you're hot, then you're cold. If this isn't leading anywhere, then say so. I'm a big boy, I can take it.
> 
> _[I intend to be friends.]_  
>  **Dorian** : Friendship. I see. [Pause] Sad that I didn't see you naked first, but have it your way.
> 
> _[This is not going anywhere.]_  
>  **Dorian** : See? That wasn't so hard. Sad that I didn't see you naked first, but have it your way.
> 
> _[This isn't the right moment.]_  
>  **Dorian** : When is a good time, exactly? You face death on a daily basis, my friend.  
>  **Inq** : I know, but -  
>  **Dorian** : No, I apologize. My sense of timing is usually better. Perhaps we should... pick this up some other time? After the business with Corypheus is resolved, for both our sakes.

If you tell Dorian to withhold for now but promise to build a relationship with a slower pace, first he is lost for words. Then he admits that he has never actually been in a serious relationship, and that the standards he has built up so far mostly rely on casual sex. He leaves a bit confused but filled with hope, after having stolen a kiss. But if you accept Dorian's offer at once, you are rewarded with a nude scene and asked to decide what happens next. There come the further dialogue options which show a few more shades of cruel rejection but also a way to a happy ending:

> **Dorian** : Very well, you've rooted me out. There is something I want. I'm curious where this goes, you and I. We've had fun, perfectly reasonable to leave it here, get on with the business of killing archdemons and such.
> 
> _[Option 1: Is that what you want?]_  
>  **Inq** : Tell me what you want.  
>  **Dorian** : All on me then?  
>  **Inq** : Should it be all on me?  
>  **Dorian** : [sighs] I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise. We end it here, I walk away. I won't be pleased, but I'd rather now than later. Later might be dangerous.  
>  **Inq** : Why dangerous?  
>  **Dorian** : [after a pause] Walking away might be harder then.
> 
> _(the remaining 3 may be chosen independently but they trigger after this one anyway)_
> 
> _[Option 2: Let's leave it here, then.]_  
>  **Inq** : Alright. Perhaps this is all it should be.  
>  **Dorian** : True enough. We have other things with which to concern ourselves. Corypheus, dragons, any number of interesting deaths. [Collects his clothes] It was fun. Get new curtains. These ones are grisly. [Leaves]
> 
> _[Option 3: I'd prefer to keep this fun.]_  
>  **Inq** : I don't know if I want more. Wasn't this a good time?  
>  **Dorian** : I've no burning need to stroke your ego. More of the same would not be unwelcome.  
>  **Inq** : Is there anything wrong with having fun? Why do we need to stop now?  
>  **Dorian** : Because stopping later would be too difficult. Perhaps this is something we can speak on later... once we see whether you or I survive this whole business. [Collects his clothes] Until then, I need to go. [Leaves]
> 
> _[Option 4: I want more.]_  
>  **Inq** : I want more than just fun, Dorian. [Pause] Speechless, I see.  
>  **Dorian** : I was... expecting something different. Where I come from... anything between two men is about pleasure. It's accepted, taken no further. You learn not to hope for more. You'd be foolish to.  
>  **Inq** : _[Let's be foolish_.] So let's be foolish.  
>  **Dorian** : Hard habit to break.  
>  **Inq** : I'm good at breaking things.  
>  **Dorian** : Hopefully not everything.  
>  _(or)_  
>  **Inq** : [ _This is more_.] This is more, Dorian. Right here.  
>  **Dorian** : Funny I didn't recognize it, then.  
>  _(or)_  
>  **Inq** : [ _And now_?] You still feel that way?  
>  **Dorian** : I'm slowly learning to feel otherwise.

Such confessions would not come from a person who is _intrinsically_ promiscuous, only inclined to tolerate casual sexual encounters. Dorian's apparent promiscuity is acquired, it has its origins in social pressure and the unfavorable status of homosexuals among the Tevinter Altus. He has learned to keep his expectations low, yet he must have been genuinely heartbroken after every rejection. As we can see, he is not very fond of the 'friends with benefits' option. Frankly, when he is sitting at the edge of Inquisitor's bed, he's naked literally and figuratively. He has taken his façade off only to reveal that he is madly in love, begging not to be forsaken at this sad threshold he has never managed to cross.

It is shown several more times that Dorian is capable of expressing his vulnerability to the loved one, but these are all cases of emergency when Dorian fears Inquisitor's death: after Adamant and the Raw Fade, and right before the final showdown with Solas in _Trespasser_. Moreover, we can learn, through the quest concerning his birthright amulet, that his objects can stand some disappointment without falling apart at once. Dorian mentions, not without embarrassment, that he wants his amulet retrieved but insists to do it on his own. The most spicy choice in this quest involves taking Dorian with Inquisitor on a humiliating trip to Val Royeaux, to make him witness Inquisitor's negotiations with a greedy, cunning merchant. If you do so and accept merchant's offer, Dorian may take offense against Inquisitor and leave to Skyhold. At this point, a pathological narcissist would intensify his raging hatred and engage spiteful attacks to guilt-trip his bygone love object, or to provoke aggressive response which would only justify more hatred. A pathological narcissist tries to burn the bridges right away.

Dorian, however, seems truly moved by Inquisitor's gesture, even if it hurts his pride. He tries to set things straight even though he feels offended. As it is revealed, he fears that he would appear to be taking advantage of the Inquisitor. Later on he is able to express his gratitude, as the amulet is an important symbol of his bond with Tevinter Imperium (and probably also the better part of his bond with the father). This is why I suppose that Dorian, as he is seen in Inquisition, fits the almost-healthy level of narcissism: he is still, to some extent, controlled by his infantile inner conflicts and sometimes slips into regression, trying to resolve his problems with words which express parent-like admiration coming from his superego. If it is so, then Dorian's narcissism came to a halt as "a common and [...] relatively mild disturbance" that is more similar to Freudian neurotic twist of personality (see: O. F. Kernberg, _Aggressivity_..., p. 49). This is a good news because, as the Kleinian theory adds, a personality that functions on the neurotic level can be fixed up _extensively_ just by rediscovering an inner source of unpolluted love (See: M. Klein, "On Criminality", Love..., p. 259). This is unthinkable with a generic pathological narcissist whose ability to love an object without excessive envy is almost completely stifled.

**The intractable Alcibiades and Gereon's generosity**

I believe that Dorian actually got his chance to regain the good object on the basis that was rooted in his external reality. The moment he was invited to stay with Gereon Alexius, he was also given an invitation into transference – a huge psychological operation of actually transmitting one's oedipal objects into a new person. The notion of transference was at first limited only to the therapeutic environment. The late work of Melanie Klein held that all the profound relationships between people are based on transference, in as much as they are based on early object relations that are being revived over and over again in individual's everyday life (See: M. Klein, "The Origins of Transference", _Envy_..., pp. 55-56).

The school conducted by the Order of Argent must have been a terrible place for a young person so sensitive to pressure and somewhat inclined toward compulsive reactions: the strict discipline, mentioned in The World of Thedas, probably ignited Dorian's constitutional anxieties once again. We do not know where and how he started drinking or became sexually active, but it is possible that the Order of Argent education was as well supposed to nip the acts of sexual exploration in the bud. One thing is certain: young Dorian was the furthest from innocent. Moreover, when you are a teenager, struck by the awakening of your mature genital sexuality, positive transference often combines with infatuation. _The World of Thedas_ notes that Dorian indeed made a great progress as Alexius's apprentice. And Gereon Alexius figuratively adopted Dorian and supplied his father-imago with a more forgiving image. We do not actually know Alexius's sexual orientation: whether he was a strict heterosexual or he was hiding something that was only accepted among the common people of Minrathous... "Ask me not what I was doing there", he wrote to Halward Pavus after he had fetched Dorian from an elven brothel, and this remark gives food for thought. But we do know that Dorian was drunk and bold enough to ask the magister to join him in his carnal pleasures (See: WoT II, p. 233).

Nonetheless, I believe that the relationship between Alexius and Dorian could be in fact a highly sublimated version of the ancient Greek pederasty between the teacher and his apprentice (no matter if there was really tension between them, or just Dorian's projected love interest). The Greek permitted pederasty was a relationship with many moral restrictions that were supposed to thwart any outright sexual contact between the grown man and the young boy, intended to be to great extent  _platonic_. The situation in classical ancient Greece was quite similar with the social standards among Tevinter noblemen: the Greeks put stress on one's ability to resist pleasure in favour of duty. An adult man was obliged to have a wife and children, and he was only permitted to adore a boy who has not grown his first facial hair yet; in other words, a boy who wasn't yet considered an adult. A relationship between two grown men was looked down upon, and any attempt at physical contact brought disgrace to the older and more responsible one, as the one who cannot resist his lust. The boy was idealised as the one who attracts virtuous men with his innocence and beauty. The terms coined to describe both roles in this kind of relationship are _erastes_ and _eromenos_ – the one who loves actively and responsibly, and the one who is taught what it means to be loved. (See: M. Foucault, _History of Sexuality vol. 2_ , Vintage Books 1990, pp. 187, 195-197). Translated literally into Latin, they are _amator_ and _amatus_.

From this standpoint, a homosexual relationship described in Plato's _Symposium_ is most awkward: Socrates has chosen to admire Alcibiades, a young man who allegedly grew complacent in his conduct and resorted to debauchery (at least according to a pseudo-platonic dialogue _Alcibiades_ ). During his appearance in _Symposium_ , Alcibiades arrives at the feast, already drunk, and makes confessions about his relationship with the philosopher. Socrates was the first and only man who made Alcibiades feel ashamed, as the latter tried to seduce the philosopher so he could be taught his wisdom – and failed. Alcibiades fell in love so desperately that he reversed the roles and became the _erastes_ : eventually, it was he who chose Socrates as his beloved. The same thing is supposed to have happened with many others, and Alcibiades accuses Socrates of insolence towards young boys (See: Plato, _Symposium_ , 212d, 215b-219e, based on transl. by R. Larson, Harlan Davidson Inc. 1980). Socrates is here depicted as a man with adamant willpower and great wisdom. He has already gained great reputation as a soldier and a head of the family. His interest in Alcibiades must be confusing, but it turns out a purely spiritual concern of boy's well-being. As Foucault suggests:

> [...] what Alcibiades discovers in the course of the famous "test," is that Socrates is loved by them [young boys - SA] only to the extent that he is able to resist their seduction; which does not mean that he feels no love or desire for them, but that he is moved by the force of true love [...]. (M. Foucault, HoS II, p. 241)

Only a deep heart's desire can make a person change on the inside, and Socrates ignited boys' desire only to make them pursue virtue. Somehow, Alexius's acceptance for Dorian leaves a similar feeling. On one side, there's a boy on the doorstep of adolescence, perhaps already in possession of a charming virgin mustache, gradually turning into a basket case. On the other, there's a man of notable reputation who has already fulfilled social expectations and therefore cannot be threatened, who can provide Dorian the priceless feeling of security. But he only makes this proposal provided that the boy is unhappy and that he desires to do better. In other words, Alexius could change Dorian for the better in a way Halward would always overlook, because he had never asked what his son really desired.

What is more, even after Halward's attempt at blood magic, the magisters who share the gossip about the scandal still refer to Dorian as _a boy_ , even though he's already in his late twenties at the time (See: WoT II, p. 234). Possibly, Dorian's consequent rejection of heterosexual marriage has discredited him as _an adult man_ , declined him the ability to speak for himself in the society of Altus. This might be one of the explanations of Halward's desperation to 'rectify' his son. On the other way, Dorian does not understand why he should separate various aspects of love, or why he should pay for social recognition with his authenticity – and this refusal to internalize social conveniences has brought misery upon him. As he says bitterly in banter with Vivienne:

> **Dorian** : I could have pretended. Wore fancy clothes, convinced everyone I'm something I'm not.  
>  **Dorian** : Then I could take a position at court, whore myself out, and desperately hope no-one realizes what a fraud I am.

Actually, he was never able and he never will, and Vivienne couln't help but point it out. Nonetheless, Dorian's rebellion has always been about and self-loyalty in general, and sexual standards among the Altus are a bright example of a wider pathology, no more and no less. "The Imperium is a land of lies built upon secrets built upon falsehoods."

With Alexius, not only could Dorian learn magic, but also he received a constructive role model and, potentially, an  _amatus_ who was just the right person to adore. Moreover, Dorian might have gotten an opportunity to observe more benevolent coexistence between Gereon, Livia and Felix Alexius – something quite unfamiliar, considering the toxicity of his own family environment. For a time being, he gained enough strength to loosen up his pathological responses to fear, and to feel really wanted for what he was by nature, not for what he was expected to become. Once he has learned _storge_ and _philia,_ two dimensions of love which are not reduced to corporeal pleasure, he might have started to hope for more complex partnership, and to despise social bargains which separate the caring and emotional dimensions of love from sexuality. However, his society turned this dream into a forbidden fruit.

That is, as I suppose, the main reason why Gereon's demise struck Dorian so heavily that he eventually resorted to heavy misconduct: he was left alone with no reassurance from others. A return home was out of question, and Dorian might have gone on a 'manic feast' – a course of greedy, indiscriminate attempts at gratification which were supposed to make up for his lost object. Moreover, I believe that his advancement in object relations while he was Alexius's disciple enabled him a significant progress while working through his infantile depressive position: from manic and object-aggressive to more guilt-ridden and self-aggressive. He did not fear his new modified father-imago that much, and Dorian's own guilt could become more evident.

After all, Alexius had died for Dorian threefold: for the first time, when he grieved his wife and became fixated on saving Felix's life. Dorian must have been severely injured as he was now cast aside, seeing Alexius fade away in despair. Yet he decided to help and save whatever had been left to save. Then, Dorian and Alexius fell out, and it is hard to say which party drew the short straw. Alexius-object died the second time when Dorian made an attempt to reconcile with him but encountered nobody in the estate. It must have reinforced the feeling that the beloved object was now lost forever, Dorian's inner home – emptied out, and all the hope lost. Later, after Dorian's ultimate escape from the family home, Alexius died for the third time when he tried to recruit Dorian to the Venatori. Also at this point an attempt at object reparation occurred: Dorian followed his former master to Redcliffe and got in touch with Felix. It is worth noting that Dorian pities Alexius after he has reached the Inquisition and hopes that Inquisitor will show him mercy. He tends to emphasize how Alexius influenced him in the best way, and he is relieved if Inquisitor conscripts Alexius as a researcher. All this considered, Dorian's attitude towards Alexius reveals that he has successfully undergone depressive position in a transference situation.

Young Pavus has learned his lesson and started the greatest quest in his lifetime: to permanently affirm his identity in becoming and amator, the one who seizes the initiative but also takes full responsibility for his love choices. Maker only knows how many times he had failed before he reached the fine assortment of the Inquisition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: most likely an analysis of DoriBull, or a comparative interpretation of both romance options.


	4. For whom he'd dance with ten silk scarves: Dorian's lovers through 'Dragon Age: Inquisition'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An analysis of Dorian's romantic interests, mostly the DoriBull and a profile of Iron Bull himself, as much as it is needed; recapitulation on InquiDor, and a brief interpretation of Dorian's behaviour in 'Trespasser' with a little speculation about his bright future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because DoriBull is debated all around, I must give and ADDITIONAL WARNING of all the potentially disturbing things that accompany this romance: dominance-submission, dubious consent, intrusive flirting, Bull being Bull, and so on.
> 
> ALSO, I am citing the most debatable banters between Bull and Dorian. I won't mind your calling the Sexual Harrassment Panda (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQnNH7I07RY).
> 
> Edit 7.01.16: added a short fragment with a Skyhold dialogue that is quite important concerning Dorian's commitment issues.

**Part IV. For whom he'd dance with ten silk scarves: Dorian's lovers through _Dragon Age: Inquisition_**

 

**Accidentally hitting the Bull's eye: can a Qunari learn intimacy?**

By default 'canonic' state, Dorian is granted a romance with Iron Bull which might have various outcomes depending on player's choices. It appears more spicy, less fairy-tale than the one with the Inquisitor, quite tragic considering the geopolitics of Thedas, but most of all: surprisingly efficient. First, there is the Inquisitor: the blank card, the story to be written by the player, and fulfill one of Dorian's deepest desires. Then, there is the Iron Bull. The relationship between Bull and Dorian seems to incarnate the principle that the opposites attract. The first partner is a Tevinter noble mage who is also a narcissistic dandy, a pariah in his own country, a lover of alcohol, fine clothes, killing random Venatori, and spectacular explosions. The other is an overgrown, hypermasculine kossith Qunari secret spy with an eyepatch, practically a walking sexual innuendo, creating an image of the cool, laid-back mercenary commander. Politics-wise, Iron Bull should be Dorian's nemesis. When it comes to esthetics, the relationship begins with Bull's intrusive flirting and Dorian's evident repulsion. Bull's pickup lines appear very intrusive and embarrassing, yet Dorian falls for them. At some point he makes a confession that "an ill-considered night after drinking" transformed into mutual committment that seems to have evolved from purely sexual into more emotional. Dorian makes a confession to the Inquisitor in Skyhold:

> Inq: So, what's going on between you and Iron Bull, exactly?  
>  Dorian: [sighs] If only there were a single discreet bone in that lummox. Um, do you truly want to know? Is this an official concern or -  
>  Inq: I'm asking as your friend. How did I not know about this?  
>  Dorian: I wouldn't want anyone to know about this. Just like I wouldn't like anyone to know I fancy Fereldan beer.  
>  Inq: Oh, the _shame_ , Dorian!  
>  Dorian: Well, it's something. A whole lot of something. At first, it was an ill-considered night after drinking. Then there was a second time. And then... I don't know what's going on, to be honest. I suspect neither does the Bull. [snaps] Now that I've said it out loud, my ancestors are officially turning over in their graves. Oh, well.

This seems to be a completely new situation for both partners. Contrarily to what could be deduced from the context of Inquisition, "kadan" – the word used by Iron Bull to refer to his love interest – does not originally stand for a lover. Sten from Dragon Age: Origins calls you "kadan" if you help him retrieve his sword (and basically his honour). Hence, the meaning of "kadan" seems close to "friend" or "honourable companion", as the Qunari cannot actually grasp the concept of intimate couple. Iron Bull, however, is an Ashkari - an intelligent, thinking Qunari; one who can grasp new ideas. One who could even, to the bane of his Qun, absorb new ideas and live up to them. Ultimately, Iron Bull could add his own meaning to a familiar word and make "kadan" stand for his loved one. This is how he comments on the romance with Dorian:

> Inq: So... Dorian?  
>  Iron Bull: Yup! [chuckles, then clears his throat] Yes, we've been... spending time together.  
>  Inq: I suppose that's one way to improve relations between Tevinter and the Qunari.  
>  Iron Bull: You know me, Boss. I'm a peacemaker. Whatever differences Dorian and I have, this is a way for us to come together. [chuckles] You get it? 'Cuz... _Yeeeah_. [pause] Dorian's a sweet guy. He's gentle, and he cares, under all that bluster. I'm hoping we're good for each other. Plus, I've never done it with a mage before. One time he got so excited he set the curtains on fire. [chuckles]

In this particular conversation, Iron Bull appears genuinely elated – it's one of these moments when we would not expect the agent Hissrad to leap out from behind his cover. Generally speaking, Iron Bull seems to be struggling between two self-images which cannot be reconciled: the Hissrad of the Ben-Hassrath and The Iron Bull who was only supposed to remain a cover, a mask. This mask, however, seems to slowly attach to his face. At some point he may become confused: which one of his faces is true? In fact, they are both true but only one can prevail. Each choice made by Inquisitor during Bull's personal quest leaves him with a different self-image to become the one and only coherent identity.

Hissrad from the Ben-Hassrath is a paradoxical entity: an individual diffused in its society, the radicalised version of Foucault's vision from _Discipline and Punish_ come to life – a body reduced to its biological functions, governed totally through the social role it carries, education, ideology, various bodies of knowledge, and the socially acceptable ways to punish it; "[...] the soul is the prison of the body" (see: M. Foucault, _Discipline and Punish. The Birth of the Prison,_ transl. A. Sheridan, Vintage Books 1995, p. 29-31). This is why Southerners may dread the Qunari: the kind of conduct demanded by the Qun must appear, to great extent, dehumanizing. In the South, a 'person' mostly seems to stand for an agent who exercises their freedom of will. This, combined with the fact that the ideology of Qun is based on world conquest, and the kossith race themselves – powerful, fierce, enduring and perfectly disciplined.

Hissrad will not turn a hair if he gets an order to betray Inquisition, even after years of collaboration. Hissrad cannot love anybody; Hissrad frequently offers his sexual force to a Tamassran. Iron Bull, on the other hand, is a renegade, a mercenary, and can become a person according to Southern standards. He gets thrilled with fighting dragons, he likes redheads, and drinking in Skyhold's tavern. He is the one who sacrificed his eye to save Krem and who isn't even trying to convert the Chargers to the Qun. He is the one who fears what could happen with his friends, had the Qunari actually invaded the South. Also, the one who may have fallen in love with Dorian _after_ they've had sex.

I found one banter exchange between Dorian and Bull most interesting:

> Iron Bull: Think I know what your problem is, Dorian.  
>  Dorian: I have only the one?  
>  Iron Bull: You see a man who’s burned out, who left his people and entire life behind…and for what?  
>  Dorian: You’re not suggesting we’re similar.  
>  Iron Bull: How’s that mirror treating you? Pretty picture, isn’t it?  
>  Dorian: I may vomit.  
>  Iron Bull: Wait, wait, I’ll flex a little for you. Make it easier.

That is, in my opinion, the point of this relationship: Dorian cannot fall in love with Bull following his ego ideal. He cannot see himself in Bull's eye – on face value, they seem completely opposite. Dorian is frightened and disgusted at the very thought that Bull could be his reflection. With the Inquisitor, he is the one who takes the initiative: the flirting, the dance in Halamshiral, the first sexual act. Dorian could assume the privileged position of the  _amator_. Iron Bull embarrasses and humiliates him, yet Dorian lets the Bull conquer him as the latter has declared. There might be several explanations: first of all, Dorian's acquired disposition to be indiscriminate and to take whatever is being offered to him. Dorian has never really been satisfied in love; in fact, he is starving on the inside. Secondly, Dorian got caught into a trap set by the Bull, into a clever manipulation. Bull gradually builds up Dorian's hostility to mobilise his aggressive drive:

> Dorian: Watch where you’re pointing that thing!  
>  Iron Bull: Dirty!  
>  Dorian: _Vishante kaffas_! I meant your weapon!
> 
> Iron Bull: Better hike up your skirt, mage boy.  
>  Dorian: I’m not wearing a skirt.  
>  Iron Bull: You trip on that bustling whatever, don’t come crying to me.
> 
> Iron Bull: That staff’s in pretty good shape, Dorian.  
>  Iron Bull: You spend a lot of time polishing it?  
>  Dorian: [groans]
> 
> Iron Bull: Quite the stink eye you got going, Dorian.  
>  Dorian: You stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden, with no thought save conquest.  
>  Iron Bull: That’s right. These big, muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.  
>  Iron Bull: I’d pin you down, and as you gripped my horns, I. _Would_. Conquer you.  
>  Dorian: Uhm…what?  
>  Iron Bull: Oh. Is that not where we’re going?  
>  Dorian: No, it was very much _not_.
> 
> Iron Bull: I’m just saying, Dorian, you carry around this picture of the Qunari in your mind, like you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing.  
>  Iron Bull: And you’re inclined to do the forbidden.  
>  Dorian: I have no idea what you’re talking about.  
>  Iron Bull: All I’m saying is, you ever want to explore that, my door’s always open.  
>  Dorian: You are impossible! This is… [frustrated noise]  
>  Iron Bull: Good! I like that energy! Stoke those fires, big guy.

What might trouble about Dorian's eventual engagement in this relationship, and make his consent appear (quite legitimately) debatable or even dubious, is the subtly uncovered sadomasochistic chemistry between the two characters, combined with Bull's indiscreet (and, frankly, manipulative) way to bring it to light. To provide a definition of sadomasochism for the needs of this analysis, I shall use Otto Kernberg's view that pleasure is always to some extent combined with the aggressive impulse, and that in some individuals this connection vents more clearly than in the others. According to this view, sadomasochism seems quite similar to narcissism: it is a quite a basic component of human sexual drive, with many ways to manifest. Some of these ways are playful, consensual and harmless in the long run, some of them are pathological, and the major criterion to evaluate them is the possible harm done to individuals' emotional integrity and wellbeing (See: O. Kernberg, "Sadomasochism, Sexual Excitement, and Perversion", Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association, vol. 39 (2)/ 1991, pp. 333-362). The relationship between Dorian and Bull seems based on sexual passion, but not necessarily reduced to it:

> Varric: So, Bull, you and Dorian?  
>  Iron Bull: _Mhmm_.  
>  Varric: Two worlds tearing them apart, Tevinter and Qunari. With only love to keep them together.  
>  Dorian: I don't see how this is even remotely your business, Varric.  
>  Iron Bull: Could you make it sound angrier? Love is a bit soft.  
>  Dorian: Please stop helping the dwarf!  
>  Varric: How about passion?  
>  Iron Bull: Yes, that's better. Love is all starlight and gentle blushes. Passion leaves your fingers sore from clawing the sheets.  
>  Dorian: You could at least have had the courtesy to use the bedposts.  
>  Iron Bull: Eh, don't top from the bottom.  
>  Varric: [laughs] Passion it is, then.

Briefly speaking, I believe that Iron Bull's kinky sexual life is alright, as neither of his partners turns out psychologically damaged (unless he betrays them in _Trespasser_ , but that's a different pair of shoes), however the way he plays out his advances to win Dorian's attention is debatable from the moral standpoint.

"You are inclined to do the forbidden" – Iron Bull pulls a delicate string of unconscious drive out. He's a sly, observant agent. Dorian's agitation gives him away: he isn't completely indifferent to Bull's horse advances, in as much as Cassandra should be considered relaxed and untouched. Pentaghast actually changes her attitude from amusement, through a little frustration, to a firm refusal which cuts the topic off definitely. The also appears the most immune to the sight of naked Iron Bull, if you remember the epic cutscene. Dorian is not that immune, and he seems to be caught in Bull's trap _unconsciously_. His revulsion is authentic, just as his aggressivity and weakness to temptations. Dorian probably isn't bothered by any phantasies of _pleasure_ with Bull until Fereldan beer in Skyhold loosens his tongue and mind. But as soon as these phantasies come to the surface, he cannot resist. This isn't outright abuse by any means, more like seduction, a manipulative projection that was cast to lure Dorian, a successful attempt to control a part of his self.

Iron Bull's romance, be it with Dorian or the Inquisitor, involves the ambiguity in Bull's identity that sways one way or another, depending on Inquisitor's decisions. Also, it involves the Ben-Hassrath principle of Bull "giving his partner what they need". _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ has three characters who can read others' minds to some extent. Varric is a writer with a hunch for the narrative aspect of personal identity, the intrigue, the tragic knot (to use a metaphor from Aristotle), and he is highly capable in portraying people with concise formulas. Cole is technically a soul therapist: he can read unconscious and preconscious contents which are connected with emotional pain and the drive for reparation. Then, there is Iron Bull who is great at scanning people's behaviour and subliminal responses for their _projected_ (more 'cast forward' than 'intended') identities. He is the mentalist, the rhetorician-manipulator.

The way Bull uses his mind to understand people and persuade them is deeply connected with his ability to read and cast projective identifications. As far as I understand the concept according to its post-Kleinian extension, people always unconsciously store a part of themselves in others so they could be understood. Some projective identifications serve to hurt and to manipulate. Klein described mostly the pathological forms of this mechanism (See: E. Spillius, "The emergence of Klein's idea of projective identification in her published and unpublished work", Projective Identification. The Fate of a Concept, ed. E. Spillius, E. O'Shaughnessy, Routlege 2012, pp. 3-18). However, Wilfred Bion recognised a special healthy mechanism based on projective identification which provides elemental understanding between people (primarily: the mother and the infant) – the container-contained element in mental functioning. To simplify it, one person stores the contents of their self in the other in order to be understood. The one who acts as the containter is supposed to work these contents through, using their mental functions, and give feedback by storing the understanding part of their own selves in the other. It's a bit like the exchange in transference and countertransference, as well as the hermeneutic circle between two unconscious minds (See: J. C. Guillaume, "Container-Contained", _International Dictionary of Psychoanalysis_ , Thomson Gale 2005, p. 340).

Iron Bull seems to act as a responding containter for people's identity contents, and reacts to them in two modes. As he explains, when the object is hostile (or, more gently: uninterested), he gives them what they want, only responding to their articulated wishes. But when the object is somebody he cares about, Bull mirrors their deeper secret identity to fulfill their perceived unconscious needs. Yet, this way he could give an impression that he cares deeply _even if_ his actions are calculated. He coul just as well use this technique to seduce without giving himself away. We cannot reject the hypothesis that Iron Bull, as a trained Ben-Hassrath, has learned to operate with his _mind only_ , and with his predisposition to emotional attachment locked away. Iron Bull might be using a kind of acquired state similar to schizoid splitting in his self, so he can invest all his commitment into the Qun and break all the other bonds immediately when it is necessary. The example of sacrificed Chargers shows that, after all, Bull's feelings and committments become completely irrelevant in regard to his ethical deliberation if they clash with something perceived as a high value, obedience to the Qun being the brightest example.

I have already mentioned that Dorian's peculiar connection with the father-imago may cause him choose love objects with a perceived wish to dominate and constrain him. In other words, a bit of humiliation (combined with punishment, possibly) and submission to hypermasculine men might be Dorian's kink, perhaps even undiscovered until the point he has met the Iron Bull (if you remember the banter in which Bull rubs it in that Dorian is trying to _top from the bottom_ ). Yet, I am slightly disturbed about Bull's potential motives for initiating this relationship in the first place. I perceive Bull as struggling between two identities. It is not entirely impossible that the Hissrad actually tried to seduce the nearest citizen of Tevinter to spy on him, while the Iron Bull genuinely liked Dorian. In the party banter, Bull is curiously fond of the small talk about Tevinter – he lets Dorian know that he has seen Minrathous. This can be simply a casual chat, yet Dorian is the only companion (save the Inquisitor who might have declared very limited trust) who feels disturbed by the fact that one of his party members is a talented Qunari secret agent. As I have mentioned, the ambiguity within Iron Bull's identity, combined with his mysterious capability to cut all the cords of attachment, allows his motivation to mold and change dramatically, and renders him somewhat unpredictable. Unfortunately, if the Inquisitor chooses to sacrifice the Chargers, Bull forsakes his 'faux' Orlesian identity very easily, even though he truly mourns his companions; he comes to incorporate the Qun in its totality.

Nonetheless, Bull and Dorian can also find common ground on emotional and existential level. They were both bred for a purpose, not brought to life through romantic interest. Their chats about Tevinter may turn into deep, intellectually stimulating disputes. Moreover, Bull's well-aimed responsiveness might after all satisfy Dorian's narcissistic demands. In the end, they match pretty well, and there is a chance that the Tal-Vashoth Bull will cease to use his mind in a manipulative way, becoming one with his feelings and commitments that contradict the Qun.

**Too beautiful to be true: the first, and perhaps the only, _amatus_**

The flirting between Dorian and the Inquisitor can already begin in Haven, and if you make certain decisions before moving on to Skyhold, the invitation to Redcliffe from Halward Pavus may arrive when the castle is still in ruins. There are in fact a few ways to initiate more serious romantic interest between Dorian and Inquisitor, but each of them requires us to complete Dorian's personal quest and meet his father. I have already discussed how this romance starts for good. I would only like to add that Dorian's relationship with the Inquisitor reveals his deeply rooted emotional greed, a hunger for good introjections, as the main characteristic of mage's love life. This greed seems to be mirrored by Dorian's potency: when Iron Bull brags about their first night – it's been three times (and it is the Bull who seems more than impressed afterwards); if Inquisitor lets him go all the way during their love scene – it's been twice at least. All of this contributes to a portrayal of Dorian as a man who aims at a fulfilling relationship, is terribly hungry for intimacy which is more than physical, builds his hopes up despite past experiences that taught him to be indiscriminate and keep his expectations low. As soon as a serious relationship triggers, companions have new unique and heartwarming comments:

> Cole: You look happier now, Dorian.  
>  Dorian: Is that what that light, tingly feeling is? I suppose you're right.  
>  Cole: Wishing but wondering, wounded and wistful. What if he doesn't want me after?  
>  Dorian: But he did.  
>  Cole: Now you're smiling! It's good.
> 
> ( _a prompt 'cryptic' comment in Skyhold_ )  
>  Cole: Glittering to gloss a hidden hurt. Unlearning not to hope for more. Stumbling steps where the wall used to be.
> 
> Sera: You and the Inquisitor, 'ey? What is that like? Jousting?  
>  Dorian: Fewer horses, marginally. More cheering, definitely.  
>  Sera: [laughs] Nice.

And this is how other companions comment on the DoriBull:

> Cassandra: So, Bull, about you and Dorian...  
>  Iron Bull: Yes, it's true.  
>  Dorian: By all means, let's all discuss this together.  
>  Cassandra: If... you're both pleased...  
>  Dorian: I'm happy, he's happy, everyone's happy.  
>  Iron Bull: Oh, _you're_ happy?  
>  Dorian: [groans]  
>  Cassandra: [laughs]
> 
> Sera: [laughs]  
>  Dorian: Something particularly funny?  
>  Sera: You. And Bull. [laughs]  
>  Dorian: I – I'm glad it amuses you, but what I get from my affairs is... my affair.  
>  Sera: Oh, _I know_ what _you_ get.  
>  Sera: It's like falling through a tree into custard.  
>  Sera: Too high! _Wham_! Too fast! _Wham_! Leaves! _Wham_! _Splat_!  
>  Dorian: I don't know which is worse, the mockery or the accuracy.  
>  Bull [if in the party]: Eh, depends how much rest the trees had.

Then, according to the games, Dorian might get a multi-dimensional, doubtlessly sincere, fulfilling relationship with the Inquisitor, a true match made in heaven which lasts until the resolution of _Trespasser_ DLC's plot; or, he can get a slightly more dubious, but in the end still alright, romance with Iron Bull. Regardless of the ending after _Trespasser_ , it has happened: Dorian has found his first real _amatus_ , and it is said that the old flames never die.

Considering Dorian's issues with narcissistic idealisation of object-imagoes which I have mentioned before, the successful romance with Inquisitor looks like Dorian's private wishful fantasy come to life. Dorian's love is, after all, _idolatry_ – his object choice remains narcissistic, and he loves his _amatus_ in as much as he wishes to be loved back. Yet, Dorian is a really hungry beast, and in exchange he can become very generous as long as he feels secure. This time, his idol is not the cruel, deified father, but a living human being with their own desire.

Through his ordeals, Dorian can become everything that is said about Platonic Eros throughout the _Symposium_ : the ephemeral, idealistic Aphrodite Urania meeting the obscene and physical Aphrodite Pandemos; Alcibiades unintendedly turned into an _amator_ , hence knowing love from both sides; a child from the wedlock of abundance and poverty, fecund with affection yet never ceasing to crave. This desire has two noble outlets: according to the Greeks, heterosexual relationship served procreation, homosexual one – the pursuit of beauty. Moreover, in this pursuit, the man

> [...] absorbed in the contemplation of a vast sea of beauty, [will – SA] give birth to sublime words and sentiments in the unstinting practice of philosophy until, having thus grown in power, he may glimpse a unique knowledge. (See: Plato, _Symposium_ , _op. cit_., 210d-e.)

A homosexual relationship in ancient Greece was supposed to pursue the truth, to educate – and Dorian Pavus is a man who wants to live truthfully. In his particular case, the unique knowledge speaks: "You have to fight for what's in your heart". Ultimately, each of the romances possible for Dorian may turn to his advantage. With the Inquisitor, it is an idyllic picture of Dorian being finally allowed to turn his hunger for love into active affection. With Iron Bull, he receives the most sublime understanding, and probably also a safe outlet for his unconscious destructive drives.

**Post-Trespasser confusion: Why keep the distance after all?**

If we choose friendship with Dorian, at some point he will call our Inquisitor his dearest and perhaps the only friend. The fundamental question is: why the only friend? I understand that he may be in doubt about Gereon Alexius and omit Felix who is now dead, but what about Maevaris Tilani? According to the war table mission, she's an "old friend", but apparently not friendly enough to be considered a true friend. I suppose that the notion of narcissistic object choice may explain this state of affairs. If we take a look at actions required to befriend Dorian, it appears that the Inquisitor gets to stroke his ego pretty hard, provide emotional care and reassurance which Dorian seems to be lacking. A perfect friend, in Dorian's view, is the one who fully and indiscriminately supports his own attitudes, plans, and dreams. He is egocentric, no doubt about that. And there is more to this than the course of his friendship with the Inquisitor.

The Maevaris Tilani presented in _Those Who Speak,_ _Until We Sleep_ and _The World of Thedas_ appears to be truly strong, healthily self-assured, and quite reckless when necessary. She might be a kind of a friend who is not tricked by Dorian's defenses and unconscious games, who can be brusque, try to cut him down to size when he is doing something foolish or self-destructive. A friend who is actually the dearest and the most caring, but will be overlooked by a narcissist. This is a pure guess, but Dorian's misconduct might have broken Maevaris's trust at some point. Dorian is uncertain of Tilani's friendship because she might have given him more injury than appraisal; she may give him warnings, make demands and conditions.

I have found a [tumblr](http://chaifootsteps.tumblr.com/post/133671199352/quite-honestly-i-could-stomach-the-awful-way) whose author is agitated by the fact that, after _Trespasser_ , Dorian seems to leave the Inquisitor in a quite cruel "distant relationship zone" without a clear claim that they will be together again. This post actually made me think. Indeed, Inquisitor's presence in Tevinter mentioned in _Trespasser_ epilogue does not remind the passionate romance from the main Inquisition game at all. To be honest, the same thing seems to happen with the Iron Bull. Dorian and he basically break up, and Bull is once more mentioned as having allegedly rescued Dorian from an ambush. Whoever is taken into consideration – Inquisitor-partner, Inquisitor-friend or Iron Bull – they are denied the possibility to go to Tevinter with Dorian for longer, or at all. Frankly, his explanations in that matter seem quite unsatisfactory, if not petty: he does not really want to leave but he has to; they will only be apart for longer; "A Qunari cannot simply walk around the Imperium". The problem is, Iron Bull has seen Minrathous. He admits that he has been in the courts. Even if the situation in Tevinter is harder than in Orlais, a former Hissrad should be able to stay alive during a short rendezvous. It appears that Dorian is looking for excuses instead of realistic solutions, experiencing an inner conflict to choose his old burdens and his old solitude in the end. Thus, I shall repeat Cole's cry over Dorian's misery: why would he do that?

In the main game already, Dorian seems to show peculiar indecisiveness concerning serious commitment with the Inquisitor. Despite high expectations and the great anxiety he was trying to conceal during the love scene, he is evasive when the Inquisitor asks him about their shared future, and becomes quite abrasive when pressed for a clear declaration:

> Dorian: Ah, yes, after. Dreadful thing, after. Let's see. Assuming one or both of us aren't slaughtered along the way, what do you wish to happen? We could go our separate ways, if you prefer. I've been a port in a storm before. I would understand.  
>  Inq [Is that what you want?]: Are you saying this because that's what _you want?_  
>  Dorian: You're the Inquisitor. You're the one with responsiblities. I am but an adornment upon your arm.  
>  Inq [No games.] Stop with the games. I want an answer.  
>  Dorian: The Inquisitor is wearing the serious hat today, I see. [ _gives slight disapproval_ ]  
>  Inq: It's not a hat.  
>  ( _or_ )  
>  Inq [Suddenly modest?] All of a sudden, that's all what you are?  
>  Dorian: [agitated] That's not _all_ I am, but I'm not the great holy hope of Southern Thedas.  
>  Inq: It's still early.  
>  Dorian: You joke. One day they'll write books about you. Boring ones that will get it all wrong. Just watch.
> 
> ( _or_ )  
>  Inq ['I want to stay together' _or_ 'Is that what you want?' + 'You're more than that'] [...]  
>  Dorian: You're very sentimental for someone who has killed as many people as you have.  
>  Inq: You bring it out in me.  
>  Dorian: Sweet Maker, next you'll be making calf eyes at puppies.
> 
> ( _regardless of the choice_ )  
>  Dorian: I... don't know what the future holds. For us or anything. That's my honest answer. Once Corypheus has been defeated, when this is over... I'd like to talk about it more. If you would.

If he decides to stay after Corypheus's defeat, his next two years with the Inquisition appear to be lived from day to day, with quite little motivation to go back home. Dorian will evade an unambiguous declaration of commitment almost the same way later on, when the fate takes him back to Tevinter irrevocably. Let us take a look at the situation in Trespasser. Dorian gets a notice on his father's death, and an invitation to the Magisterium. He has already spent some time in Tevinter; if he befriended or romanced the Inquisitor, it has been just a few months. Now, he decides to return home – for good. He tries to loosen the bonds in a very evasive way, not exactly cutting them right away, as if he was sitting on a fence. He ignores Inquisitor's concern of their relationship; or, he mentions that Iron Bull and he are figuring a resolution out. But, to be honest, Iron Bull appears strong enough to move on unharmed, or he still has the ability to cut off from commitment. Dorian gives the Inquisitor a communication crystal – a sad symbol of suspended relationship. Why would he think that his serious love commitment and his ambition cannot be reconciled?

One of the disadvantages of Dorian's narcissistic object choice is that, at some point, he may lose sight of his real loved ones and start chasing his own tail. As a narcissist, he may be inclined to choose his ego ideal over real people as soon as they cease to satisfy his expectations, even if he declares otherwise. This seems to be the case. Facing a conflict of motives, he chooses the devil he knows over uncertainty. The most serious argument against Inquisitor's or Bull's journey to Tevinter is the ruthlessness of their political games and the risk that accompanies their intimacy with a magister. Could Dorian be overanxious about his loved one and/ or best friend? Perhaps, but this isn't a sufficient explanation. Such anxiety could as well be a pose justifying Dorian's indecisiveness (which appears a quite convenient escape from responsibility). There is also, quite literally, his "golden opportunity for martyrdom".

It is worth noting that Dorian's permanent return to Tevinter actually puts him in the situation he has been trying to avoid all his life. He has inherited his father's position in the Magisterium, and, being restored as the heir, probably also all the "fucking legacy", the damoclesian sword of his existence. He thought he'd never have to face it anymore, but now Dorian must sit on his father's throne. Theoretically, he could deny it all once more, and the Inquisitor can point it out. Yet, Dorian Pavus says that he _has to_ leave. He feels an inner urge, even though this is probably the hardest situation he will ever have faced as an adolescent; much harder than his escape from home. An anticipated hard situation might be forcing him resort to defenses which are specific to melancholia, today known as hardly curable, chronic depression: withdrawal to a familiar environment, minimizing one's interests, saving one's inner resources. Dorian Pavus has learned to deal with his problems on his own, using narcissistic withdrawal. Even though he's finally had a relatively successful relationship, he still cannot deal with his problems by sharing anxieties and responsibilities with somebody else. Now, he is once again becoming a survivalist. I suppose there are two reasons for this: first, he is preparing for struggle and heavy blows that will come in the future. Next, and more importantly, he is mourning his dearest object, though the true impact of this process probably isn't given away yet.

"I will find my father's killers and kill them back. Then I find those giving Tevinter a bad name and kill them" – this declaration poses a threat that Dorian's mourning may turn into another manic feast, maybe even something more severe: into paranoia, easily justified with patriotism, as eradication of Tevinter supremacists. Dorian Pavus hasn't been a nice man, and he might turn out even less in the end. Already in Inquisition he has a disturbing interest in vendetta against the Venatori. One of his war table missions (simply called _Dorian's Request_ ) suggests killing specific Venatori _because_ he knows them in person and because he wishes their death. Instantly killing off a multitude of hostile objects – that's a paranoid mechanism, an automatic response to fear, specific to Kleinian paranoid-schizoid (3-4 months) and early depressive position. These subtle remarks may indicate a dangerous situation virtually emerging before our eyes. Still shocked by the news, Dorian Pavus seems to be on the verge of depression triggered by mourning, as his actions in the past have already displayed a paranoid tint. Moreover, he has been put under great stress concerning his new role in the society. And if you want to see where such things may lead when they're left without a therapeutic factor, take a look at a change that occurred in sister Leliana.

Dorian's new situation indicates that he is once more put under pressure of the oedipal conflict. The real father is dead, but the symbolic one will never leave Dorian. He genuinely loved his father, and the mourning process may include a manic attempt to restore Dorian's father-imago as his personal demanding god. The urge for reparation probably forces Dorian to Halward is forever imprinted in Dorian's superego, for good and for bad. The good part of this superego may be telling him to redeem Tevinter, but the persecuting part may reinstate Dorian's old fears. He is caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. His abilities to reconcile sincerity with ambition, to transform his vulnerability into creative sensitivity, to choose forgiveness over cruelty, will be put to trial. Dorian may be unconsciously walking right into a dragon's nest, once again shrinking his ego under demands of a cruel father-god who won't be satisfied unless Dorian loses himself. Perhaps he feels that his endeavour may crush him and, in an outbreak of healthier impulses, Pavus sincerely wants to keep his dearest ones away from the sorry sight? This may be a call of destiny, a personal heroic quest, a prelude of a soul's alchemical transformation, or deep regression and the ultimate trial to satisfy Dorian's revived father-imago _by all means_. Or all these combined, some done by means of the other. Only the time will show. What is certain that Dorian will not be the same person as in Inquisition after a few years back in Tevinter. His old flames might get bitterly disappointed, or be simply unable to reclaim him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: We are getting to the end. The last intended part will be more philosophical and cultural, and will try to cast some light on the phenomenon of Dorian appreciation.
> 
> FINAL EDIT: This essay will be, after all, left unconcluded as it is. The social problem was more than I could chew.
> 
> Additional dimension of the DoriBull in my essay on Iron Bull: [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5485073)

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT - some disclaimers:  
> 1) There's an issue of identification with mother, widely connected with male homosexuality among the "classical" psychoanalytic theorists, but 1) considering the lack of information on Aquinea Thalrassian except that she most likely wasn't a model good mother, I cannot really do much about it, and 2) I don't trust this hypothesis entirely, as its execution in phantasy as presented in material looks quite weird even for my imagination. If Dorian's identified with his mother on a deeper level, it might be quite thickly veiled or in other way complicated (somewhere between his defiance towards the father and fondness of liquor). There clearly were issues out there, but they ought to be left for personal headcanons.  
> 2) Only after having created the fourth chapter, I discovered that Dorian is aware of his hypermasculinity kink. I'm only not sure how it affects his affairs with Iron Bull specifically.  
> 


End file.
